


A Shadow Rising

by Poztupim



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Ancient History, Asshai (ASoIaF), Dark Magic, Essos, Genocide, Humans are Bastards, Letheli (Snake-people), OC Race, the reason Stygai is a terrible place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poztupim/pseuds/Poztupim
Summary: Even the Shadowbinders of Asshai are afraid to enter Stygai, the Corpse-city. But what happened to that place to turn it into terror incarnate? Enter the last stand of the Letheli and their vengeance upon the world.
Kudos: 6





	A Shadow Rising

Lethys was burning. 

The city on the source of Ash River was becoming another smoking ruin, filled with corpses, with dust, with untold stories no one will ever hear. A fortnight ago Tarhanos had fallen, a month ago the Gate of Haath. Now the last bastion of the Letheli or Shadowkin had ceased to exist, swept away by the tides of war, by mens brutal desire for rule and conquest. While the Letheli could live longer than most other beings, each of them would lay one clutch in their life - containing only two little hatchlings. Since they kept to themselves on the steppes beyond the Haath‘i Gate, they never grew to greater numbers, preferring isolation and peaceful coexistence rather than expansion and colonization. Humans were different: Where every Letheli that fell was a heavy loss on the already dwindling population, for every human that died ten more would rise to take his place. And so the wave of bronze spilled over the mountain ranges and dyed the ground red with blood and flame.

The old fortress was the only place where real fighting still occurred: Here the defenders were pushed back slower, due to the narrow tunnels funnelling their foes into the deeper parts. Ballistae were firing relentlessly, iron spears and swords were stabbing and slashing into human flesh, floods of blue and purple flames were washing over the waves of younglings that pushed still into the castle. But while they fought back, the Letheli numbers still dwindled and soon they found themselves overwhelmed. Quality was no match for quantity anymore.

In the deepest cavern, far beneath the surface, the Magisters were chanting and hissing at a black monolith that dominated the hall with its mere presence. Its surface was smooth like marble with little purple and white specks dancing and rippling across. A low humming permeated through the air, rising in volume whenever a magister fell to the floor. One after another left this world behind, separating their souls from their bodies and vanishing beyond the veil of death. Something remained though: The magic that flowed through every Letheli‘s bloodstream concentrated on the ones still standing and at last, when only the High Magister himself remained, it channeled itself into his form, filling the room with glittering lilac light. The wave of glimmering air pushed through the corridors into the rest of the fortress and wherever it touched a Shadowkin‘s corpse, a flashing pulse went through the gleam. It spilled out of the gates, enveloping all of Lethys, then the ruins of Tarhanos, then even the black marble gate of Haath. The entire steppe was pulsing and flashing in blinding purple for three days, a shimmering on the eastern sky for all of Essos to see. Ships in the Gulf rotted were they anchored, strange fish swam down the Ash River, a pale grass spread in front of the Gate and dragons all over the world roared in terror. Afterwards the light receeded, leaving behind a shadowy grey plain, dotted with greasy black stone blocks. No corpses were found, no living beings either, neither Letheli nor human, neither animal nor dragon. A silence permeated the stale air when the last pulse rippled through the still shimmering gates of the Letheli fortress. Then there was a rattling and shuffling and soon whispers could be heard all around the valley. The remaining host of men that camped on the lower foothills and at the southern coast went up to Haath. What they saw, few would tell, but the King of Men gave the order to pile a mountains worth of boulders and stones between the columns of the Gate and cut the vale off from the rest of the land. After that they built a garrison city on the mouth of Ash river, it would later be known as Ash‘ai-of-the-Watch and even later as Asshai-of-the-Shadows. But Lethys would be known as Stygai, the Corpse-city, where shadows whispered into foolish travellers ears and old demons would strike and coil and rip and devour any human who went inside the vale.

For the men of the remaining host saw Snake-Shadows dancing on the plains behind Haath‘i Gate and glittering watchposts standing guard over Tarhanos and singing magisters praising the blackened stones at the gates of Lethys and dead men walking under the Shadowkins brutal rule. For the once peaceful snakemen had left their old ways behind and learned a hard lesson when their land burned around them: It is better to be feared than to be loved. And while they are still confined to their now barren home most people assume that the shine will reappear one day and the Shadowkin will spill into the world and take revenge upon their former tormentors children. 

Then the world will know that only terror lies within the shadows - in shadows that will snuff out every flame and enslave all life under the yoke of those that were before.


End file.
